COMICS, FILM AND OTHER NONVIABLE MATTERS

OCTOBER HALLOWEEN GUEST BLOG # 1

I had this thought. I have been so serious about the content that I have been pushing out. Not that it hasn’t been fun. I would never write if I did not enjoy it, but I want to have a different kind of fun this time. It’s October and Halloween will be here before you know it. So . . . I have asked my friend and colleague to practice his storytelling skills by guest blogging a Halloween Horror Short. I will continue to accept other guests for the same purpose all the way up to the actual holiday. This guy is my guest, friend, colleague, and consultant in all things historical. Please Welcome, Christopher Flippo.

DISCLAIMER: Please excuse any content that may seem offensive. Keep in mind that these are the opinions of fictional Characters and not the actual Author.

RUBBLES

Broken Cemetery

May 3, 2015

There are 50 known cemeteries on this post. I’ve been bored off of my ass, so my buddies and I are going to pick one and check it out. Maybe we’ll take a few beers out with us. By the way, I don’t do this whole diary thing; honestly it feels a little gay. But, I figured I should keep a log of what we find, if we find anything. Anyways, I don’t do this often, so don’t judge.

Back to the point: fifty known cemeteries. There’s one in particular that’s caught my interest. Cemetery number 15. Most of the cemeteries here have some kind of family name associated with them, but this one does not. The headstones there are all apparently weathered away. No one knows who’s been buried there or for how long. They’re pretty much unmarked graves by this point. Local legend says that there have been some strange happenings there. We’re gonna ditch the barracks and check it out to see if we can get a thrill out of it.

This cemetery is located in one of the most heavily forested areas on-post, and taking personal vehicles on the trails is highly illegal. Sometimes the MP’s and Range Control will patrol the trails, but less heavily at night. It’s not likely we’ll get caught, but we’re taking bikes out there just in case. It’ll be harder to notice us without the headlights of a normal vehicle.

We’re going out at 2200 tonight. Who knows? Maybe we’ll see something interesting. If not, it’ll end up being a cool night out with the boys.

May 4, 2015

Last night was weird. We were all stoked to get out there, and made it without incident. We did have to hide in the bushes on the way out as an MP was driving by, but other than that things went smoothly. As we got closer to the cemetery, our excitement grew. After endless details and taskings’, we were finally going to do something cool. As soon as we laid eyes on the place, our blood ran cold, simultaneously. It was a clear night with a bright moon, so we could see everything on the approach. Small headstones, large ones, and one tall grave marker, about six feet tall with a broken sculpture of an angel on it. The sculpture was broken at the waist, a very jagged cut. Other than normal weathering, the rest of the monument was intact, along with all of the other headstones. Here’s the thing, though: when we finally entered the cemetery, we found that the names of the headstones weren’t weathered at all. Anything identifiable had been scratched off. Names, dates, etc., had all been deliberately removed. Especially the crosses. Anywhere there would have been a cross on any of the headstones, was most severely destroyed.

Our excitement quickly and inexplicably turned to anxiety. We were all nervous, but we decided to stay until at least 0100; we aren’t bitches. Things were calm and uneventful, but our anxiety grew. We felt as though we were trespassing. This wasn’t our first rodeo. We had been places we weren’t supposed to be before; bored Soldiers, y’know? But this time was different. This time was real. We didn’t even touch the beers we brought out. We all made nervous jokes from time to time to lighten the mood, but nothing worked. We stuck it out until 0100 as we had agreed, and by that time the negative energy was intense. I’ve never been so scared in my life, and for no reason. It goes without saying that we “noped” the fuck out of there without any regard to caution or stealth. As soon as we left the cemetery grounds the feelings of anxiety disappeared immediately. I haven’t told the others about this, but as we were leaving, I turned back to look at the place. In the bright moonlight, I vaguely made out one lone dark figure just standing in the middle. I couldn’t tell which way it was facing, and honestly I wasn’t interested enough to find out. I doubt we’ll go back.

May 7, 2015

The past few days I’ve had a feeling I can’t shake. All five of us do. We want to go back. We need to go back. There’s this feeling that is drawing us back that we cannot ignore. We all know it’s a bad idea, but it’s nagging us. Maybe returning will get rid of it. So, we’ve decided to go back tonight. It’s stupid, I know, but it’s driving me crazy. We’re leaving at 2200 again, but this time we’re going to try and stay until 0400. Going to work tomorrow is gonna suck without sleep, but fuck it.

May 8. 2015

Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. We went back. Holy shit. That was a bad idea. Here’s what happened. I swear that you can’t make this shit up:

So we left and got there around 22:20. Same as last time, as soon as we got there we were overcome with a sense of terror. This time it was stronger than last time at the outset. This time the angel on the grave marker was gone; completely broken off. We should have known. We should have turned around at that point.

Things weren’t bad until around 0300. Then, it got really cold. Georgia weather can be weird. It’ll be warm one day and chilly the next. But it went from really warm to freezing in almost an instant. We were all wishing we had brought our cold weather gear.

It was another clear night with a bright moon, but as soon as the cold hit the area darkened. We could still see the moon. It was just as bright but somehow the area dimmed. That’s when shit hit the fan. Starinsky, the youngest of our group, froze. His face became neutral and cold. He just stood there, not answering us or acknowledging us. He was like that for a while, and then turned to us and said quietly: “They’re here. You’ve all made a mistake. You are all going to die.” That freaked us the fuck out. As soon as he said that he became himself again. It was then that we felt a presence, like we were being watched. We turned our backs to the center to see if we could see anything in the woods, but there was nothing. As we turned back to the center, they were there. Holy shit they were right fucking there, standing in a triangle in the middle of our circle, facing us. Dark, tall figures, just like the one I saw last time. We were paralyzed with fear. We fucked up. Big time.

I’m not a religious guy. Yeah, I went to church as a kid. I even went in Basic, but that was just to get away from the Drill Sergeants. I don’t know why, but I started saying the Lord’s Prayer. I kept saying it again and again, and as I did the figures became agitated. A single whisper made of three voices proceeded from the mouthless figures: “You have all been baptized. CURSE YOU. Leave now and never return. You will all see me again. None of you are safe.” The paralysis disappeared immediately, and it didn’t take any discussion for us to sprint to our bikes and get the hell out of there. I turned back again (I’m an idiot), and I could still see them standing there as they had been, in the same formation.

When we got back, we were all pretty shaken. We had a little bit of time that we could have spent napping before morning formation, but no one slept. During the duty day we were all back to our old selves, albeit very somber. Except for Starinsky. He, throughout the entire day, was…different. When he wasn’t doing anything he’d just sit there staring, looking at something. I hope he comes out of it. Maybe he just needs time. Maybe we all do.

I’m definitely going to start going to church again. If the three figures make good on their word, I need to be ready. I don’t want to die.

About The Author:

Christopher Flippo is a Small Networking Administrator and Sat-Com Technician near Savannah, GA and a U.S. Army Veteran. He is currently serving as a consultant to Seth Greenwood on his upcoming project, GALE. His hobbies include Home brewing beer with Seth, obsessing over Sub-Reddits, and watching “Rick and Morty”. You can follow him on twitter @Chris_A_Flippo.